


The Difference Between Here and There

by signifying_nothing



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: M/M, brief mentions of non-con situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 10:35:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5825203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signifying_nothing/pseuds/signifying_nothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>namjoon is a porn star with a boring, perfect home life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Difference Between Here and There

**Author's Note:**

> i had a couple of requests for sugamon bdsm, but this was as close as i could get. i really like this dynamic though, sorry to disappoint :

So, the thing about fucking for a living is that you get sick of doing what you're told. Not only that, but you kind of get sick of experimenting. By the time Namjoon is done with his work—fucking whatever pretty twink they brought him into the wall or the bed or the floor, all he wanted to do was go home and spend the night nuzzling his lover, who couldn't be bothered to fuss about the job he'd chosen while working on his novel. It's part of why they're together, Namjoon is sure—the other part is that Yoongi, well.

Yoongi is special.

He proved it over and over when Namjoon got out of work and couldn't stand being touched, when Namjoon spent two hours in the shower or the bath, when Namjoon complained about his work day and all Yoongi did in response was kiss his raw lips and tell him to _come to bed, baby._

That night, Namjoon was feeling particularly agitated. Jimin (one of his favorite people to work with) had cried, actually _cried_ when the other part of their threesome hadn't stopped when he begged, hand on his chest, shaking his head. Jimin had cried for him to stop and he hadn't, and Namjoon had shoved him off the bed, making sure to keep Jimin close to his chest to keep him safe. The resulting fight had the movie nearly cancelled, and Jimin hugging himself into Namjoon's arms. Namjoon would put up with a lot of shit (did put up with a lot of shit) but the blatant abuse of his coworkers was not one of them. Jimin was a stripper and a dancer and a professional porn star but that was _not_ an excuse to fucking _rape him_ on camera.

He'd stayed in the hotel room with Jimin until his lover came to get him, all dark, blazing eyes and shaking hands. Namjoon had passed him off quietly with one last kiss to the forehead, a promise from Taehyung that he'd call when he had a chance and a watery smile from Jimin,  _thanks hyung._

Namjoon went home to Yoongi and silently requested the same comforting thing he'd given, sitting on his knees next to the couch where Yoongi was sprawled out and reading, pressing his forehead against Yoongi's mouth. He was given his kiss, and another for good measure. Yoongi didn't ask questions yet.

“Come to bed, baby,” Yoongi murmured, getting up from the couch in his pajamas and tugging Namjoon along to their bedroom. Once safe in the cool, dim-lit space Yoongi pulled off Namjoon's clothes, kissed his neck and lips and shoulders, smoothed his fingers through his dark hair and smiled up at him. Namjoon wanted to cry.

“What happened?”

“Fuckin'... Jimin got... Got hurt, today.”

“Is he okay?”

“Gonna be,” Namjoon nodded. “Think he might quit.”

“Maybe he should,” Yoongi said delicately, as he laid Namjoon out on the bed, hand running over his nude legs and chest. “It might be best for him.”

“Maybe.”

“You like him a lot.”

“He's a good friend.”

“Mm,” Yoongi nodded, bending to kiss Namjoon's jaw, his neck and chest. Namjoon squirmed, hands fisting in the pillows and legs falling open. At work, Namjoon was a fucking _stud,_ he fucked all their pretty little twinks, grinned his toothy grin and left them breathless with cum on their lips but at home... At home, Namjoon could just be Namjoon, a struggling writer with a useless degree, who wanted to be happy. Namjoon, who lived to be curled up under his small, handsome lover, spread open on his girth, gasping helplessly into his mouth. Namjoon could be loved at home, by his small lover who wiped away the mess of his days and replaced them with the warmth of himself.

Yoongi's thin fingers made quick work of preparing Namjoon, his lips pressed to belly, thighs, shaft. They'd been together a long time, so long that Yoongi didn't need to be told what to do to make sure Namjoon felt best. He twisted his wrist at the right moment, let Namjoon thrust shallowly into his mouth while he fucked him with his fingers until Namjoon shook his head and arched his back painfully.

“Hyung,” he whispered, biting into his lip. “Hyung, hyung please--”

“I know, babe,” Yoongi murmured, and Namjoon heard the slick sound of lube on skin, groaned in relief when Yoongi settled properly between his legs and started to push into him.

At work, Namjoon used all kinds of positions, used all kinds of props and toys and lubes that were scented, flavored, oddly colored. At work Namjoon lived out the fantasy of the average dude, who could live vicariously through him and frankly it got to be a little much at times. At home, Namjoon preferred this position: missionary, simple and easy and he groaned, wrapping his arms around Yoongi's small shoulders to pull him in, trying to keep his legs open when Yoongi's cock was pressed up to the ballsac, his lips soft on Namjoon's chest, his hands tight on his waist.

“Joonah,” Yoongi murmured, rocking his hips as Namjoon gasped, eyes closed, head tipped back.

“Aahhyung,” he breathed, opening his thighs a little wider, jerking at Yoongi's belly against his groin. “Fuck. Feels good.”

“Always feels good,” Yoongi whispered, smiling, having to stretch to kiss Namjoon's fat, chapped lips. Yoongi loved kissing during sex, and Namjoon lived for it, because it didn't happen at work. Not unless it was Jimin or Jackson, two of his favorites. But Yoongi kissed like he was in love and that made it better, slow slipped tongue and sucking at Namjoon's lip, rolling him up a little more, a little more to make it easier to reach.

“Hyung,” Namjoon whispered, sliding his hands down Yoongi's back, rewarded with a faster rhythm, a deeper push. “Aah, shit. _Shit,_ slower... Slower, god.” Yoongi did as he was asked, pushed his hips down and back on the pull-out just to listen to Namjoon groan. Sometimes Yoongi liked to fuck him with a toy meant for prostate stimulation, but his cock worked just fine, curved up towards his belly, thick and pretty long. Namjoon's thighs shook and Yoongi put his hands on his hips to steady him.

At work, Namjoon was expected to talk. Filthy words, things he hated to say but had to, because it was expected of him, but at home he could just pant, moan and whisper into Yoongi's mouth and Yoongi. Yoongi listened, spoke back in gentle words, so gentle.

“I've got you, sweetheart,” he whispered, pushing his hips against Namjoon's body, feeling him shiver and tense. At work, Namjoon had to be a sex machine. At home, he could just... Experience it. “Come on, let go.”

“Ahhyung, hyung--” Namjoon jerked up and down, reached between his legs to stroke himself, thumbing his tip and squeezing on the downstroke just how he liked it, fingers slapping down against his balls while Yoongi sucked his neck and his thin fingers pinched at a nipple and _god_ Namjoon always came, always, gasping Yoongi's name out into the room and into his mouth when Yoongi pushed in hard and stayed there, thighs trembling with the effort of holding Namjoon's weight while moving his own.

“Baby,” Yoongi said gently, easing their bodies into a different position, spooning up behind Namjoon's taller self while staying inside of him, as close as he could. “I love you.”

“Love you more,” Namjoon whispered, tipping his head back into Yoongi's and smiling at the kiss to his hair even as Yoongi called him a _fucking nerd_ and pinched his waist. “Shit.”

“Mm.”

“I'm off till next week,” Namjoon murmured, turning his head to be able to kiss Yoongi's pink lips. “Wanna go... Away, for a few days?”

“Mm, where,” Yoongi asked, cupping his hand on Namjoon's cheek to keep him from pulling away, speaking only between kisses, gentle rocks of his hips. “The beach? We could bring Jimin and Taehyung.”  
“Yeah,” Namjoon nodded, settling down and wiping his hand on the sheets, closing his eyes. “Yeah that sounds like fun. Get away from work for a while.”

“Call Jimin tomorrow morning,” Yoongi yawned. “I'll take care of train tickets, huh.”

“Mm,” Namjoon nodded, turning his head to the side to feel Yoongi's slowing breathing against his ear. At work, Namjoon immediately got off the bed and showered but at home he let the mess wait until morning, when he and Yoongi would get up, and Yoongi would refuse to kiss him until he brushed his teeth and showered, and they'd make coffee and call Jimin... At home, Namjoon was just Namjoon: with a bachelor's degree in creative writing, a successful career as an internet porn star, and a partner who sluiced away the mess to replace it with himself.

 


End file.
